


Love is more than just a game for two

by Verity (PenelopeGrace)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Humor, I Tried, Idiots in Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Parent Trap AU, Social Media, it strikes again, or at least, someone save Yurio, victuuri hellspawns are here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 19:29:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17731241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenelopeGrace/pseuds/Verity
Summary: In Hasetsu. . .Phichit is just glad this wasMy Best Friend's Weddingwithout the crazy, obsessed ex. Yuuri is relieved that his pact to Phichit to marry him at 40 if they're both single is coming true. All Yuuri needs is his twelve-year-old son, Ren, to make their new family complete.Meanwhile in St. Petersburg. . .Ren Katsuki, who switched identities with his identical twin at Yakov's skating camp in Moscow, pretends to be Nikita Nikiforov. Conspiring with his twin thousands of miles away from home, Ren has two goals: to figure out what went wrong with his parents’ relationship 10 years ago and to bring them back together again.The Parent Trap AU + a/b/o + one-shot





	Love is more than just a game for two

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: One-shot with our favorite clueless gay boys. With alpha!Viktor and omega!Yuuri and too many shenanigans and plots going on at once. I can’t believe I did this instead of english homework, by the way. I’m blaming YOI for my life today.

  _Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan_

“You should probably tell him,” says Phichit, his voice low over the phone line. “You don’t want Ren to find out over the internet. Or over texting.”

“Yakov promised me that no skaters at camp will be able to access the internet, and Ren doesn’t have a phone,” replies Yuuri, leaning back in his rocking chair and casually keeping an eye out for his eleven-year-old son, Ren.

“The older skaters might bring their phones,” his best friend points out. “Yakov can only do so much to prevent the older skaters from smuggling their phones in.”

Yuuri considers for a moment. Then he tells the alpha, “Then we keep it quiet. That means no Instagram, no Facebook, no Twitter posts. No social media posts until Ren comes back from camp. I don’t want him to think about this while he’s at camp.”

Silence.

Yuuri knows that he’s killing his best friend with the imposed social media blackout. The last thing Phichit would do is to _not_ share a personal detailed post on social media. The alpha has been living, breathing, and absorbing everything about social media ever since he came to Detroit and maybe even just before.

“Dad!” calls out a familiar voice.

“I got to go,” Yuuri quickly whispers, ending the call. He drops his phone onto the coffee table with a clang.

Yuuri smells his son, his icy, unpresented scent filtering into the room, before seeing him. Ren Katsuki, standing only at four foot three with a few more years before his growth spurt, throws himself at Yuuri. He’s sweaty from conditioning day with Minako-sensei, who still is as ruthless as she was with Yuuri over twenty years ago. From a young age, Ren showed an affinity for the ice, surprising to none who knew of his parentage. Together, Yuuri and Minako trains Ren the last six years at the Ice Castle. Yuuri could easily see a few years down the road that Ren could do quad jumps and become a professional figure skater on an international stage.

He wonders what his other son is doing now. Not a day goes by where he didn’t think of Ren’s identical twin.

Ren’s messy hair, perhaps uncombed Yuuri sometimes thought, brushes against Yuuri’s cheek. Ren squeezes his arms around his father. “I’m going to miss you. Why do I have to go to Russia?”

“Yakov is one of the best figure skating coaches ever.” Even at 88 and in retirement, Yakov always runs his skating camp geared towards the more serious and promising figure skaters. He heard Yuri Plisetsky’s supposed to be teaching jumps this year. Yurio has always been an excellent technical skater.

“But you are the best coach ever, Dad.”

 _Not really, son. Not the best,_ Yuuri quietly thinks.

* * *

  _Moscow, Russia_

From the barrier, Ren stares open-mouthed at the dizzying figures of skaters moving by. He loves Hasetsu Ice Castle, but there's something about seeing skaters at or above his level.

Speeding around the rink is a dark-haired boy with his arms raised. Preparing a jump, he throws himself into a beautiful triple lutz.

“Wow,” mouths Ren.

“Nikita Nikiforov,” says a Russian skater next to Ren, awe in his voice. “He's eleven years old. Viktor Nikiforov's son. He's the next Living Legend.”

* * *

“Show me the jump again!” barks Yuri Plisetsky, sounding complete opposite of Nikita’s father.

“Shut up, Old Man!” Nikita Nikiforov rolls his eyes, desperately trying not to glance at the hiding spot holding his smartphone. Uncle Yuri would instantly hand it over to Lilia, and he will be living without his phone for the rest of skating camp and the calendar version of a summer. In Moscow, there is no such thing as a proper summer.

Skating past other young skaters, Nikita circles the rink and prepares himself for another jump. He relaxes slightly and flawlessly enters into a triple flip. His free leg extends back as he holds both hands up with ease. He is met with some applause and the unimpressed, slightly constipated look on Uncle Yuri’s face. Nikita can easily see the similarities between Uncle Yuri and Yakov Feltsman. They share the same distinctive expression whenever Nikita performs a jump, demonstrates a spin, or dance some step sequences.

Yakov says Nikita is “missing his soul.” Yuri claims Nikita “skates like a robot, always perfect but never human.” And his own father thinks whatever Nikita does is “absolutely perfect and completely adorable.”

He growls as he skates to a stop. He is not adorable.

A long strand of dark hair covers his eye. Even worse, his long midnight-black hair has escaped his carefully knotted bun while jumping, completely ruining his look.

“I need to go back to my room,” he grits out to Uncle Yuri.

“Nikita! We are not done yet! Be serious!”

Nikita huffs and snaps on his skate guards, walking off the rink and sneakily grabbing his phone from the corner. _Whatever. It’s not like Junior Grand Prix Series is this season. I’m already ahead of everyone else._

At the dorm, he curses when he realizes his phone is completely dead. He removes a few bobby pins, letting the dark hair cascade over his shoulders. He digs through his designer suitcase, searching for the phone charger. Instead of the phone charger in the pocket of his jeans, he finds a note.

_Go back to practice. -Yuri_

Furious, he rips the note into tiny white pieces.

* * *

Ren Katsuki settles in after Week Two of the three months he’ll spend at camp. Jetlag killed him the first week, and every morning, he groggily resurrects himself at five in the morning to begin morning routine. By the third week, his sleep schedule has adjusted and he will finally meet this Yuri Plisetsky his dad talked about over the years. Impressively, Yuri, or Yurio as Dad called him, is still the current record holder for short program. At 33 years old, he is resigned to being a figure skating coach for the last five years. At the moment, he’s in between students.

Desperately trying not to shiver, Ren glances up at the harness dangled from the ceiling of the rink.

Yurio intently stares at the clipboard, ignoring the long line made up of skaters from 10 to 16 years old. Finally, he looks up and says, “Welcome to Week Three of skating camp. Last week, I have already begun mandatory evaluations. I’m halfway through the list. Today, I will be seeing Nikita from 7:30 to 11:30. No one interrupts my one-hour lunch break unless it’s a life or death emergency. At 12:30, I will evaluate Ren Katsuki—”

At his name, Ren instantly straightens with full attention on Yurio.

 _Katsuki? As in Yuuri Katsuki?_ comes a whisper.

He pauses, his eyes scanning the line of skaters until they finally land on Ren. Coughing awkwardly, he recovers and continues, “Ren Katsuki. I will evaluate him for two hours. Next, at 2:30, I have. . .”

* * *

 After his annoying training session with Uncle Yuri in which the screams of _You’re not my real coach_ and _What have I done in my life to deserve this?_ becomes the new memes of skate camp, Nikita pretends to exit the rink for the gym for two days of conditioning and off-rink practice. Instead, he hides himself underneath the bleachers for one hour and waits to see Yuuri Katsuki’s son.

Yuuri Katsuki. His father’s first protege. He broke Viktor Nikiforov’s long-standing world record and replaced it with his own in the 17-18 season. He won the Olympics twice, beating Uncle Yuri by a wide margin the first time and a thin margin the second time. World Champion for a few years and also the winner of Grand Prix Finals multiple times over. Then he retired at 31 years old and disappeared off the face of the earth. No social media, no news, nothing. Practically a blank page on wikipedia, which only lists his trophies and his birthplace.

Nikita would have known if there’s news. A few years ago, he set up news alerts on his phone about Yuuri Katsuki on the off-chance he might do an ice show, so Nikita could beg his father to buy tickets to see him. He has seen his father skate many times over the years, but there’s a certain element in Yuuri’s skating that shines even through grainy videos off of Youtube. An element Nikita is missing desperately.

A small figure enters the rink from the opposite entrance, and Nikita sits up, his eyes carefully watching as a boy gently places his skate guards on the rink barriers and skates to the center of the rink. He does a few laps around the rink, his eyes closed as he simply glides through the ice with innate ease. Skating backwards, he pulls into a pretty Y-spin. Messy dark hair whips around as he curls upon himself, elegantly merging into a sit spin.

_Like father, like son._

Ren has the same element Yuuri had.

He suddenly freezes in his spin, tapping his toe pick hard against the ice. Moving back to the very center, he sets himself in a familiar opening position. Hands at his side, eyes closed, a leg poised behind another.

“This is. . .” he whispers. He slaps his hand over his mouth.

_Holy shit. It’s Yuuri On Ice!_

He glides into the first jump, easily landing the triple toe loop, double toe loop combination. His face, his body simply dances to a silent song only he and Nikita can hear. Pulling into the double salchow without a single hitch, Ren smiles even broader. His spins are better than Nikita’s, and he carries himself through the combination jumps without looking tired at all. So relaxed into the routine, he throws himself into the dance sequences.

And Nikita could hear the beat of the music in his head. It’s not just that. In fact, Ren is creating the music with his body.

The last jump at the end, a triple flip, lands slightly unsteadily, but nevertheless, Ren pushes on. A grin has overtaken his lips. He bends low into the last combination spin, moving through the motions with ease. Exiting out of the spin, he places a hand over his heart, the other hand rising to where Uncle Yuri stands. Without a constipated expression.

* * *

 Applause.

Blinking, he gasps with disbelief as Yurio claps his hands together with something he recognizes as approval. Ren lowers his arms, feeling tired but also relaxed in his body.

“Seems like Katsudon and Minako trained you very well,” he says, skating to stand in front of Yurio. His left arm crooks around a clipboard. “They’re doing well?”

“Hai!” confirms Ren. He allows himself a small grin. So it is true that Yuri Plisetsky calls his father their favorite food.

“Your presentation is excellent,” comments Yurio, shaking his head. “I could have sworn it was Yuuri Katsuki skating before me.”

“But my jumps. . .” protests Ren.

“Jumps can be improved in time. But bringing figure skating to an emotional level, giving art to an audience, baring a part of your soul is something you must find yourself. You don’t do the bare minimum, but you push the limit of the past, Ren.”

* * *

Yuri slams into Yakov’s office in the administrator’s building. The door slams quickly behind him, his tall form sending a dark shadow over Yakov’s desk.

Yakov doesn’t even need to look up, continuing his handwritten letter. “Yura, what are you doing here?”

“Ren Katsuki. Nikita Nikiforov. Did you know?”

“I personally spoke to Japanese Yuuri, Yura, and assured him his son would be taken good care of. We both know that Nikita was a last-minute addition.”

“But you didn’t tell Katsudon.”

“No.”

“This is going to end in a disaster. They will find out the truth, Yakov,” Yuri points out, gritting his teeth. “Nikita watched Ren perform Yuuri On Ice. It will take less than a day before they see similarities.”

This stops Yakov’s pen. “Yuuri On Ice routine?”

“Yes?”

“How was it?”

“His presentation’s beautiful. Great potential,” admits Yuri. “But that is not the point. Mark my words. This has no way of not ending badly.”

* * *

_Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan_

“Onsen really hasn’t changed. It’s like it’s untouched by time,” says Phichit, snapping a few selfies here and there. “You sure you want the wedding here?”

“In banquet hall,” confirms Yuuri.

“So did you tell Ren?”

“Not yet.”

Phichit sighs. “And here I thought I’ll be able to post everything on Instagram. I can’t believe you sent him to Yakov’s skate camp.”

“Well, he seemed a little stagnant the last six months, so Minako and I thought a change in scenery would do him some good. Especially since he has trouble with his jumps.” Yuuri opens a window, his eyes roaming over the cherry blossoms trees in the distance. “Yakov says he keeps to himself most of the time but he likes Yurio.”

“You think he sent Nikita to Yakov’s camp?”

Yuuri frowns, glancing briefly at Phichit. “Why would he? He’s a better coach than Yurio, and Nikita’s technical is far ahead of Ren’s. You’ve seen the videos he posted on Instagram.”

Phichit mockingly gasps, a hand held dramatically at his heart. “Here I thought you ignore social media completely. Especially his.”

“Not when it’s about my son.”

* * *

_St. Petersburg, Russia_

A tongue licks at the scruffy chin of one living legend. Blinking at the morning light, Viktor Nikiforov pats the poodle's head and murmurs, “Good morning, Yurcha.”

The toy poodle boofs in reply.

* * *

_Moscow, Russia_

It’s so stupid. He’s so stupid. Nikita simply was not watching where he was skating when he accidentally crashed into another skater. He lifts his head from the ice and spies a figure in a black Japanese windbreaker pushing himself up.

He moves his legs, relieved that nothing is broken or hurting. He feels only a brief stab of pain in his hip. Uncle Yuri is distantly screaming from the barriers.

“You need to watch where you're going, shithead,” Nikita spits reflexively, his Russian tongue turning the syllables rough and ugly.

The figure, no, _Ren Katsuki_ , freezes three steps away.

Nikita kicks himself off the ice, and at Ren's face, his heart stops in shock.

It's like seeing a mirror image. Well, if Nikita has short and messy hair and never use facial creams. The two boys, shell-shocked, stare at each other. Whispers from their rinkmates begin.

“What are you all staring at?” barks Nikita.

“Don't you see it?”

“See what?”

“The resemblance.”

“No,” petulantly replies Nikita. Switching from English to Russian, he adds, “There's no resemblance between us, moron.”

* * *

_Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan_

Yuuri leans back in his rocking hair, a hand holding his phone up. Digging through his contacts, he passes by Yakov and finds Yurio.

Sent: Yurio.

Received: what

Sent: How's Ren doing?

Received: his jumps are shit

Sent: You better not be using that language around my son.

Received: too late

Sent: Yurio!

* * *

_Moscow, Russia_

Covered in black chocolate cake and several scoops of ice cream, Yuri growls as he confiscates four hidden cell phones from the older skaters. He's lucky and unlucky that skaters love social media. Unfortunately, they might see this shit and decide to immortalize the failed celebration.

“You and you!” He angrily points at the two spawns of one Viktor Nikiforov and one Yuuri Katsuki, who are both blissfully unaware of anything their hellspawns are up to. “Pack your bags!”

* * *

Nikita never thought he would meet someone as petty as himself. Except for Uncle Yuri. But that is a completely different story. Ren Katsuki takes petty to a whole new level with a touch of Japanese manners. Nikita isn’t sure whether or not he’s comfortable with this. At least in Russia, if you’re petty, you own it.

He leaves his shoes and slippers right in front of the doorway, never changes the toilet roll when paper is out, and proceeds to make small smudges on the mirror. He would rearrange the creams in the bathroom and just-so-slightly moves Nikita’s cup of water from its usual place on the nightstand at night. One time, Nikita found a little pebble at the bottom of the shoe, and he’s never been more certain in his life that Ren is purposely being a dick at a level that rivals Nikita’s pettiness.

So Nikita tries to be petty back. He refuses to talk to Ren, completely pretending that the other boy doesn’t exist. He moves Ren’s things around. He switches the dirty clothes with the clean. He doesn’t dare to touch his skates, because Nikita, petty or not, still holds standards. And messing around with skates is a big no-no. Still, he sticks chewed gum in Ren’s pockets and leaves cracker crumbs in his clean underwear.

Only the fifth week into skate camp, and he can’t wait to go home in less than two months.

* * *

“Oh, fucking shit!” curses Nikita. Papers of his beloved scrapbook flies off around the room. Pictures, notes, and thin objects are blown over to Ren’s side by the Russian wind. Great, now he has to cross Ren’s side of the room.

Ren quickly moves, diving for the papers. Shaking his head in disapproval, he offhandedly wonders, “Who gave you that dirty mouth?”

“None of your fucking business,” replies Nikita, replying smoothly in Japanese.

The other boy freezes. “You can speak Japanese?”

“Uh. . . Hai.”

Ren scratches awkwardly at his head. “I can speak some Russian.”

Nikita’s eyes widen, and he switches to English. “Wait, were you putting pebbles in my shoes because of what I said two weeks ago? I thought you didn’t know Russian!”

“Do you really call people shitheads and morons?”

Feeling his cheeks reddening, he quickly admits, “Maybe I say bad words. But it’s cause Uncle Yuri keeps teaching me how to curse to annoy my father when I was eight.”

“But it’s your choice to use those words.”

“Shut up. Now you sound like Yakov. With more hair.”

Ren begins straightening the pictures. He flips over a page of a very familiar skater in the middle of his beautiful Y-spin. Grinning slightly, he runs a finger over his father’s leg and excitedly points out, “That’s my dad!”

“Duh, that’s Yuuri Katsuki.”

“You don’t have pictures of Viktor Nikiforov.”

Nikita grimaces. “Why would I want pictures of my father? I see him all the time. He coaches me, you see. He sent me off to Uncle Yuri cause he said it would be good for me if I train under a different coach for a little while.”

“Minako and Dad says I’ve been stagnant,” he says, frowning. “That's why I'm here.”

“Stagnant? Your rendition of Yuuri On Ice is far from stagnant!” At Ren’s incredulous look, Nikita backtracks. _Crap! Too nice, too nice,_ he thinks. “Not that I’ve been paying attention or anything.”

Still, Ren smiles slightly. “Your personality is weird, but I’m glad I see a better side of it on my birthday.”

“Today’s your birthday?” Nikita thinks of the date. “Wait, today’s my birthday too.”

There’s a long moment of silence.

Ren tilts his head, a curious look on his face. “You know that’s really weird. We have the same birthdays and look super alike. Oh, don’t give me that look. You can’t deny it. We’re both mixed. Like you have a Russian parent but look more Asian. And I have a Japanese father, but I look kind of white. I mean, blue eyes? What are the chances of that? I would bet that your father is an alpha.”

“It’s Viktor Nikiforov, but it’s not like his secondary gender is a big secret. I mean, what’s your dad’s?”

“Omega.”

Nikita pauses at that. Then he says, “We gotta talk to Uncle Yuri.”

* * *

“Yurio! Yurio!”

“Uncle Yuri!”

At the near identical but accented voices, Yuri begrudgingly turns his head to see just the two hellspawns he sent into isolation dormitories. Trepidation rising, he flippantly screams, “What do you want?”

“Uncle Yuri, is Yuuri Katsuki really my omega fath—?”

“Yes!” he yells, stomping off. Really, Yuri has enough of one hellspawn. He doesn’t need to see another.

* * *

“We should switch places. I mean, I can pass as you until your father sees me skate, but—”

“Let's do it.”

* * *

_St. Petersburg, Russia_

A little ping startles Viktor from the stove. He grabs his phone when he sees text messages from Yuri.

Received: who ever let you have kids, viktor

Received: I swear I'm going to kill him

Sent: yuri, be nice to nikita

Received: you wouldn't believe it even if I told you

Sent: yuri

Sent: yuri?

Sent: what is that supposed to mean

Sent: yuri

Sent: i can see your read receipts

Sent: dont think i dont know you see this

Sent: yuriiiiiiiiiii

* * *

_Moscow, Russia_

Miles and miles away from St. Petersburg, one Yuri Plisetsky throws his phone angrily against the wall.

* * *

“My hair!”

“Shut it! You're going to wake everyone up!”

Completely ignoring Ren, Nikita continues to wail. “My beautiful hair!”

“Shh!” _How could someone be this ridiculous?_

Opening the door of the twins’ shared dorm, Yurio glances in and then says, “Ugh, not today.” He closes the door behind him.

Nikita immediately stops wailing at his shaved hair and the long locks on the floor.

The twins glance at each other and dive to the floor to clean up the hair. Ren pulls the wastebasket closer and shoves the scissors underneath the bed. Nikita tosses the hairspray bottle underneath his bed covers.

“He's going to tell Dad!” Ren panics, shoving hair by the fistful into the wastebasket.

“He's going to snitch!”

The door opens. “You two are so loud. I'm not going to do anything.” Yurio plops a black bag onto Ren's bed and orders, “Nikita, sit on the chair.”

“Wait. You're. . .”

Ren finishes, “Helping us?”

“If anyone asks, this never happened.” He pulls out a small bottle and a pair of scissors. “Now hold still, Nikita.”

* * *

“So why did our parents break up?”

“No idea,” answers Uncle Yuri. “I don't talk that shit with Old Man or with Katsudon.”

“We got to figure out why,” Nikita says, looking at Ren in the mirror. His brother nods solemnly.

“Just keep me out of it.” Uncle Yuri keeps snipping.

* * *

“They didn't say anything about any romantic relationship in Father's wikipedia page.”

“I wouldn't know why. But Katsudon and your father broke up quietly. I don't think most of the media picked up on it after Katsudon announced his retirement. JJ and Beka had a trivial disagreement that was all the news could talk about that year. They acted like it was a big scandal.”

* * *

“Minako-sensei,” says Nikita, trying to mimic Ren's Japanese accent.

“Not quite,” tells Yurio. “Ren, say it slower.”

Ren nods and repeats it for Nikita once again. Standing rinkside, Ren stretches his arms and wonders, _can we really pull this off?_

* * *

“Show it to me again.”

Nikita bends over, gasping for breath. “Maybe you should ask the old man over there to show you a triple salchow.”

“He doesn't do it the same as you.”

Uncle Yuri skates by, blonde hair swishing in a tail. “Stop calling me an old man. Clearly, Nikita inherited Viktor's sucky stamina.”

“I don't think he's even human. My twin’s a fucking alien.” Nikita straightens once more, sweat beading down his forehead. He pushes himself, beginning the preparation for a triple flip once more.

“It's cause Nikita doesn't take ballet as seriously as I do.”

* * *

“This is my phone. There's no battery cause Uncle Yuri stole my charger. But the passcode is 0-7-1-6-0-1. Don't break it.”

* * *

“Dick. . . Dickwa. . .” Ren tries to force his mouth around those words, wondering how Nikita could curse and breathe at the same time.

“Dickwad, you idiotic motherfucker.”

“Nikita!” Ren gasps, completely red. “I don't think I can have that kind of mouth.”

* * *

“Both of you, show me triple lutz.” Yuri has taken to training both siblings at the same time. Nikita performs better with Ren watching, and Ren learns how to land his jumps better from watching his twin closely.

“Fuck you, old man!”

“I already did it, shithead!”

Yuri trips onto the ice, butt landing first. Ren, the nicer twin even though both spawns look identical now with matching short hair, rushes to his side. He's the one who blurted out shithead and looks completely sorry about it.

He somewhat wishes they aren't conspiring to take each other's places. Of course, it's making Nikita far nicer than usual, but it's disorienting how Ren's developing an asshole personality.

But honestly, he'll just blame Viktor for his suffering.

* * *

“I'll figure out how Dad met Father,” Nikita promises.

“And I'll figure out why our parents broke up. We'll figure out how to get them to meet face to face.”

The twins shake on it and then pull each other into the last hug they will have in a while.

“Nikita Nikiforov, the shuttle is the airport is here!”

Ren Katsuki runs to the shuttle.

* * *

_Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan_

Minako-sensei doesn't age. Truly. Her skin is smooth, and she holds a banner with Ren's name on it. Nikita smiles at her and perfectly calls out, “Minako-sensei!”

* * *

_St. Petersburg, Russia_

Standing at the Arrivals, Ren Katsuki blinks at the sight of St. Petersburg. A car honks, and Ren laughs in disbelief at the sight of a pink Cadillac convertible pulling up right by the curb.

“Nikita,” shouts Viktor. “Welcome home!”

“Father,” breathes Ren, his chest so light. He can't believe that this moment is happening.

* * *

Being in St. Petersburg is amazing. He wakes up at five in the morning and internally screams as Viktor Nikiforov, his father but also _the_ Viktor Nikiforov, watches him move on the ice. But he’s so far from the stoic, perfect, winky Viktor Nikiforovs of his posters back in Hasetsu.

Offhandedly, Viktor comments in Russian, “Skate camp is good for you, Nikita. Your expressions are coming through. But you seem to have regressed slightly in your jumps. What happened to your Tano positions, Nikita? But what a wonderful step sequence! It’s good that you refined your step sequence, but how did you forget most of your program?”

Overwhelmed, Ren can't help but blink. _He's like Yurio in coaching. With less yelling. More lecturing._

Afterwards, Viktor takes them out for expensive ice cream. Scenting his son, Viktor wraps his arm around Ren as he rapidly talks in Russian about some ice skater's choreography. Ren can’t help but watch the way his father talks.

_He's great. He’s freaking great._

* * *

“Father, how did you meet my dad?” asks Nikita, surprisingly polite.

Viktor trips but manages to catch himself. He blinks, cocking his head and wondering how to answer a peculiar question like that. “Dad? What do you mean by Dad?”

“Or mom,” Nikita quickly says. “To get me, I have to have an omega who reared me.” He blinks innocently at his father.

Viktor stares a little too long at the street.

_What did Nikita learn at skate camp? Maybe he shouldn’t have sent him there. Just like how he shouldn’t let Yurio babysit Nikita all those years ago. Three hours of babysitting, and Nikita learned how to curse worse than a sailor somehow. Plus, Nikita prefer cats over dogs, which is absolutely—_

“Father?”

_Right. I have to answer the question._

“So how did you meet my omega parent?”

“Well, it’s a long story, Nikita,” Viktor manages to answer. He shoves away the sudden onslaught of memories of GPF Banquet in Sochi so, so, so long ago. A dominant hand tugging at his tie, the bright dark eyes that haunt him in his dreams and nightmares, and the most beautiful thighs Viktor ever had the fortune of witnessing.

He would have been happy to die at their altar.

“Father?” prompts Nikita. “How did you meet your omega?”

“It was at a party,” Viktor says, wondering how he could explain his way out of the pole-dancing, the tie-pulling, and the general wildness of that banquet without corrupting his twelve-year-old son. “He’s Japanese. I was talking to some friends, and then he came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance. I said yes, and he took me to dance.”

It isn’t the full truth, but he would rather not say too much.

“What about first date?”

Viktor narrows his eyes. “Why are you so curious all of the sudden?”

“I just want to know, Father!”

Viktor concedes. “Alright. But we had our first date on the beach back in Japan. We brought some food, and we spent some time playing with Makkachin. It was a break away from the world.”

“You two sounded amazing together.” Nikita’s words don’t register with Viktor, at first. They’re too nice. No comment about Viktor being gross. Nothing sounding like Yurio’s corruption. Just kind in a strange way that is very un-Nikita-like. But Viktor dismisses it. Perhaps Nikita finds the story interesting now. He’s close to the age when Viktor presented as an alpha.

“We were.”

“What happened? Why do I not see him anymore?”

Viktor flashes back down the memories. A decade’s worth of memories fly back until he remembers one rainy day where a hairdryer was thrown at him. He can’t even remember what he and Yuuri was fighting about. But he was angry. They both were.

Then his omega left him and Nikita. Carrying Ren away.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. We had a bad argument. Then he left. I was—” Viktor pauses, blinking at his son. “Why am I tell you this?”

“Father, I want to know!”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older, Nikita.”

“Okay, but one more question?”

“One more.” Knowing Nikita, he should have refused. It would be something terrible like. . . What was the argument? Or maybe why did he and Yuuri never end up getting married? Or where in Japan does he live? Viktor has no idea if there’s enough will in him to leave a question unanswered.

“Do you still love him?”

He breathes. Now that’s an easy question.

“Always, Ren. Will always love him.”

* * *

_Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan_

It's a little unnerving how Yuuri Katsuki doesn't say anything but call out motions for Nikita to do. He tries to downgrade his jumps slightly, ignoring the extra flourishes his father drilled him over the years. Ren’s technical ability is not close to Nikita’s just as Nikita’s presentation isn’t anything like Ren’s.

“You seem to have a lot on your mind, Ren.”

_You have no idea, Dad._

“Come on. Let's take a break. I'll make you katsudon.”

Eagerness singing through his body, Nikita has never taken off his skates off so quickly before in his life.

_Katsudon! Food of the gods!_

* * *

The first thing that strikes Nikita as strange is the strange alpha granting Dad a kiss at the corner of the mouth. The alpha, leaning against the counters of the onsen's kitchen, asks, “Yuuri, did you tell Ren yet?”

“Not yet, Phichit-kun.”

_Tell me what?_

_And who the fuck is this Phichit-kun?_

* * *

He only has to run into Axel, Loop, and Lutz, the beta social media-loving triplets, to learn the truth as they cooed over wedding flowers and their meanings.

Dad is remarrying someone?

_I have to stop this._

* * *

Phichit smiles cheerily at Nikita, leaning against the rink barrier. “So, Ren, you doing okay after Yakov's skate camp?”

“Fine,” he grunts.

Phichit raises an eyebrow.

“You're marrying my dad,” he blurts out.

Phichit frowns. “Okay, who told you that?”

“It doesn't matter, Phichit. But you can't marry my dad! Cause you're not my dad!”

“Ren. . .”

“Ren!” Dad shouts, completely shocked.

“And you,” he roars. “How dare you agree to marry this random dude? I don't know who he is, and I don't like him. His clothes are the worst!” It's a petty shot, and Nikita knows it, but all he's filled with is a burning rage. Also, Phichit’s clothes are not the worst. They look very well put together, but they aren’t his father’s fashion style.

“Ren, I love Phichit and I agreed to marry him!”

Growling, Nikita switches to French, a perfectly pretty language to cuss in. The language flows over him as he curses. “ _Fucking shithead is ruining everything! Neither of you two understand that you are both ruining everything! I can't believe this is happening. What kind of shit is this?”_

“Ren!” Yuuri pauses. Taken aback, he asks, “Was that French?”

“Learned it at camp,” lies Nikita. “But you just ruined everything!” He stomps off the ice.

* * *

It's a good thing Ren is known for sneaking off late at night to practice some figures or spins at Ice Castle. Nikita wouldn't be so sure if he could make a phone call from the onsen without anyone noticing.

St. Petersburg is only six hours behind.

Dialing his phone number from the landline, he waits until a familiar voice picks up after two rings.

“Hello?”

“Ren, we got a problem.”

* * *

Sneaking past the entrance doors, Nikita pauses in mid-step. Minako-sensei raises an eyebrow at Nikita. Behind her are three equally curious triplets.

“So. Would you like to say anything, Nikita? Or would you have lived your life out as Ren?”

“Uhhhh. . .”

* * *

The next morning, Yuuri wakes up with Phichit laying next to him. Curling deeper towards the alpha's warmth, he murmurs, “I hate that Ren doesn't want us to marry.”

Phichit coughs. “Maybe he's unused to an alpha. Plus I haven't seen him in over five years.”

“Maybe we are moving too fast.”

“Yuuri, we have known each other for over twenty years.”

“True.” A pause. “But it bothers me. I haven't seen him like that before.”

* * *

“Minako-sensei. Axel, Loop, and Lutz. Please don't tell Dad or Phichit or anyone. I would rather tell them myself.”

To his relief, they agree. Anyone who knows Nikita well enough would know that about five percent of the time, Nikita actually keeps his promises.

* * *

_St. Petersburg, Russia_

Holding Yurcha tightly in his arms, Ren nervously knock on the master bedroom door. He slowly enters and finds his father sitting on the bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Nikita? Having trouble sleeping?” Viktor turns off his phone screen and chucks his phone to the pile of pillows.

“Father,” he pauses, “I have something I need to tell you.”

“What?”

“I'm. . .” His voice drifts away. With these words, he's about to change everything.

“Nikita?”

“I'm not Nikita.”

His father frowns in confusion and then brightens. “Ah! It's perfectly alright, darling. Take your time, figure yourself and your feelings and your identity out. No matter what happens, I'll be here. Whether or not you're Nikita. You may or may not be my son, but I am always your father and you will always be my child..”

Ren blinks. Half of what his father says doesn't make any sense, and the other half says his father will be accepting. He isn't completely sure his father is on the same page, but he takes a deep breath and tries his best to explain.

His thoughts somehow organize. “Father, my name is Katsuki Ren, and I'm an aspiring junior singles figure skater. I'm twelve years old, and I switched places with my identical twin, Nikita Nikiforov, and came here to St. Petersburg. He's in Hasetsu with my dad, and I. . .” He chokes, tears clouding his vision.

“Katsuki. . . Ren?” Viktor dives in front of Ren. “Ren? You are Ren? You're here?” His father's tears of joy drip onto Ren's hair. “You're so big! I. . . I. . . I can't believe this.”

* * *

 “Wait. Nikita’s in Hasetsu?”

* * *

Ren honestly feels bad about lying straight-face to his father. Quickly pulling a suitcase, he says, “I talked to Dad, and he says he’ll be happy to do the switch at the onsen when we arrive in Hasetsu.”

Smiling broadly, Viktor asks, “How did Yuuri sound like?”

“Excited. Anticipated.”

Somehow, the smile on his father’s face glows.

The sinking feeling in Ren’s stomach deepens.

_I am so fucked._

* * *

_Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan_

Yuuri glances outside, frowning. “Snow? At the start of fall season?”

His mother hobbles forward, peering at the window. Tightening her grip around her cane, she sighs. “It will not be easy for the guests to arrive. Maybe ask Ren to shovel some snow.”

* * *

_Fukuoka, Kyushu, Japan_

The first thing in Japan Ren does is sneak away into airport bathroom and make a phone call to Axel's phone, which Nikita had managed to borrow from Axel. Nikita's voice comes through.

“Moshi moshi.”

“It's Ren. I didn't tell Father.”

“When are you arriving?”

“We are at the train station. Maybe we got a few hours. I drained Father's phone battery and hid the charger. But he's going to find out.”

“I'll get things ready at the onsen. They're going to have the wedding in two days.”

* * *

**phichit+chu**

[Img: Phichit is taking a selfie with a familiar-looking Japanese man. Both men have their hands up to the camera to show off matching silver rings.]

5k likes

 **phichit+chu** We're getting married! #katsukiyuuri

* * *

_St. Petersburg, Russia_

Halfway around the world, Yuri Plisetsky glances up at the frantic pings from his phone. He sees the Instagram notification.

Phichit's Instagram post pops up.

Then Yuri remembers what Viktor told him yesterday. He was leaving for Japan in a sudden for a personal problem, so he asked Yuri to watch the rink temporarily. And the hellspawns are. . .

“Oh, fuck! That idiotic pig!”

He instantly begins looking for the soonest plane ticket to Japan.

“Uh, Coach Yuri?”

He screams at the unfortunate skater, his hair coming out of his ponytail. “Class is canceled! I'm not to be bothered!”

* * *

_Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan_

“Wow, it's like the place has never changed!” Viktor exclaims. Behind him is Ren, cerulean eyes carefully scanning for any forms of life.

From what Ren knows, there won't be any. Everyone is rushing to properly set up the banquet room for the wedding. The onsen is closed for three days just for the wedding.

“Father!” Nikita rushes to his side.

“Wow!” He pulls both of his sons into a hug. “Both of you! This is incredible.”

“I got a room set up, Father. We should go,” Nikita says, drawing out of the hug. “You have no idea how it has been, Father.” They close the door behind them.

Ren is just able to clear Yurcha’s dog carrier into the hall when his Dad comes in through the front doors of the onsen. He frowns slightly, shrugs, and walks into the banquet hall.

Ren lets out a sigh of relief. So close.

* * *

“Nikita, can you help me find the charger?”

“Father, which charger?”

Viktor blinks. “The phone charger. What other charger could there be?”

“Uh, why?”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “Nikita, my phone is dead.”

Flashes of social media websites and the constant tweets at his father's account comes into Nikita's mind. The internet is melting down, and the world is exploding, but thankfully, his father doesn't know it yet. He blurts out, “I'm using it! Can it wait?”

“Sure.” A pause. “Are you alright, Nikita? You seem weird.”

“Perfectly alright,” he lies.

“Alright, I'll guess I'll go skate at Ice Castle for a while.” He hoists his skate bag over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“Have fun, Father!”

Once Viktor leaves the onsen without running into anyone, Nikita releases a sigh of relief.

* * *

Phichit carries a sound box through the door and smiles when he sees Ren counting the rows of chairs. The alpha wipes away the sweat and calls out, “Ren!”

The boy turns around. “Yeah?”

“Can you check on Yuuri? I'm not sure where he went.”

“Uh, yeah.” Ren exits the banquet hall through the kitchen doors.

Two minutes later, the boy enters through the entrance doors. He moves with purpose, his eyes scanning the people working on setting up decorations. Phichit has just set up the sound box correctly on the stage.

“Ren? Did you find Yuuri?”

The boy jumps. “I was supposed to?”

Phichit blinks. “I told you to do that.”

“Oh, yeah. I was.” He stands between the rows of white chairs, just staring at Phichit on the stage. It's unnerving how strong and blank the stare is.

“Ren?”

He nods slowly. “Yes?”

“You're not looking for Yuuri.”

That seems to snap the boy out of his trance. “Yeah, I'll go look for him.”

* * *

Yuuri's phone keeps blowing up. Worst of all, all the people keep on tweeting at Viktor and there's just dead silence. Viktor has always posted a picture on Instagram at least twice a day. But for the last two days, there's nothing.

It's like he dropped off the face of the earth. Yurio, on the other hand, responded to one tweet asking for his thoughts about the wedding.

 _Argh's_ h ends up taking up the majority of 140 character limit.

Knowing Yurio, Yuuri suspects he’s having a meltdown and has thrown his phone against the closest hard object. Most likely the wall.

He sighs and turns off his phone. He would rather not see opinions of fans, skaters, and coaches. Some of them are congratulation tweets. Some of them asks whatever happened to Viktor. And some of them are openly wondering if Yuuri will wear a traditional wedding gown or suit or. . .

Moving across the snow-covered beach, he wonders if he and Phichit are moving too fast. He kicks at the sand. Over twenty years ago, when they were still in college, he and the alpha made a promise that if Phichit is still single at 40, they’ll marry each other.

Seems like fate allowed it, though everyone was so certain he would have been married to Viktor.

He finds himself moving the familiar route to the Ice Castle. He glances up at the building where he first started to skate. This is where he first saw Viktor. This is where Viktor coached him. This is where he coaches Ren now.

Then he passes through the doors, ice biting at his skin. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine Viktor demonstrating Stammi Vicino on the ice. He can hear the scrapes of blades against ice.

He glances at the rink.

On the ice is a tall figure, almost unchanged by time. He moves fluidly, bursting into a flying spin with a grace that could only come from a professional skater. Silver hair flutters as he spins. Viktor changes his spin, switching legs.

Yuuri wonders if he’s feeling nolgastic. Maybe he’s feeling cold feet and imagining things that aren’t there.

He closes his eyes.

When he finally opens his eyes and blinks, he finds the rink empty.

_Like what I thought. A figment of imagination._

* * *

“They need to be on a dinner date,” says Nikita, huddled with his twin in the room. “They need to see each other, but we got to make the right moment.”

“Katsudon for dinner.”

“What should we do about Phichit, though?”

“I was hoping you have ideas.”

The twins stare upward at the ceiling, as if ideas could be found there.

“We could scare him away,” suggests Ren. “Petty isn’t obvious enough.”

“Or I can get onto social media and tweet hashtag Victuuri.”

“Or we can prank him.”

Nikita considers it. “Pranking is good.”

* * *

Yuuri wonders if he’s going crazy.

First of all, he’s hearing some sounds that suspiciously sounds like Vicchan, but it’s impossible cause he died decades ago.

While taking the daily water sample from the hot springs, he finds a green yukata randomly placed over the bench. Yuuri toss it straight into the laundry basket, not thinking much of it then.

Then he’s seeing flashes of silver hair whenever he goes. Around corners. Through windows. Out of the corner of his eyes.

And there’s this _smell_. Yuuri can’t put his finger on it, but there’s something about it that makes a part of Yuuri yearn. It smells like ice, yes. But it smells like all the heavy dreams Yuuri used to carry alone and then gave up years upon years ago.

* * *

Laying down on the air mattress, Viktor stares up at the ceiling with Yurcha wrapped around his arm. Ren has taken the very same bed Viktor slept on over 10 years ago when he first came to Hasetsu. Ignoring the beginnings of tears in his eyes, he wonders if Yuuri doesn’t want to see him. He didn’t see a hint of his former fiance today.

_Excited._

If he’s so excited, then why wasn’t Yuuri the first one to greet him? Why wasn’t the omega. . .

Perhaps Yuuri changed his mind.

No longer reaching out.

* * *

Sneaking out of the shower in the dead of the night, Phichit absentmindedly rubs his hair dry. He pats for his comb, frowning when he’s unable to feel it on the bathroom counter. He flicks on the light, his eyes catching sight of someone unfamiliar—

No. It’s himself.

With freakingly disturbing blue-purple hair.

He’s just able to slap a hand over his mouth before he wakes up the entire onsen with a scream.

* * *

That morning, Yuuri can’t help but give concerned glances over at Phichit. His shampoo has somehow been switched for a permanent dye, and his hair appears more washed out. Yuuri already knows who is to be blamed, but the suspect hasn’t come downstairs yet from his room.

“You sure you don’t want me to find some hair dye?”

“I’ll be fine,” says Phichit. “Maybe I can make this work.”

“There’s a convenience store—”  

“Not in this weather.”

Yuuri nods, conceding. “Alright.” He sighs, anxiously running his fingers through his chair. “I can’t believe Ren would do something like this. He’s so mild-mannered most of the time. Competitive, but I’ve never seen him act this way before.”

“Well, Ren has never seen another alpha court you, Yuuri. He’s young, and he doesn’t understand. Plus, he doesn’t know me yet.” Phichit picks up his chopstick and begins digging into a bowl of soup.

“Maybe we should wait until he’s more comfortable with the idea.”

Before Phichit could respond, Ren enters.

“Ren, we need to—”

Phichit coughs, his face turning red.

Quicker than a flash of lightning, Ren pivots and shuts the door behind him.

Yuuri’s mouth drops open. “What. The. Hell.”

“Water,” begs Phichit, his cheeks a shade of tomato skin and his eyes watery with tears. “Get me some water.” He sticks out his tongue and opens his mouth wide, frantically waving his hand at his mouth as if putting off invisible flames.

* * *

“REN!” Yuuri screams, losing all of his composure. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

* * *

Upstairs in the guest room, Nikita and Ren exchange a glance. Nikita examines his lightly snoring father on the air mattress and says, “Well, at least Father wasn’t awake to hear that.”

* * *

_Ren. . . Why are you acting like this?_

He sighs. Phichit probably drank his weight in water just to alleviate the spiciness and will be stuck in the bathroom for the foreseeable future. Ren contaminated the soup pot by dropping the entire bottle of red chili peppers.

_He’s acting so strange._

Shaking his head, Yuuri refocuses his attention and stares at the freshly fallen inches of snow right outside the window. Climate change has affected every part of part of the world, but Hasetsu has never changed too much. Well, except for that odd snowfall in April over 10 years ago when Viktor—

No, no, no.

_Don’t think about that._

Opening the front door of the onsen, Yuuri reaches for the shovel leaning against the wall. A series of barks draws Yuuri’s eyes to the chocolate-brown toy poodle furiously wagging its tail in delight. It dashes up to Yuuri, pawing at his shins.

“Vicchan?” he whispers.

It can’t be.

He bends down, his hands touching the soft fur of the toy poodle. He rubs its head, gently cooing at the dog. There’s a beautiful blue collar around its neck. Yuuri lifts up the dog tags to his sight. He reads the poodle’s name.

His blood freezes.

It’s impossible.

_Yuuri._

* * *

He lets the dog inside and shuts the door from the unforgiving weather. Pulling off his boots, he begins to run. He dashes around the corner, his feet follows the path to the bathhouse, his eyes searching and searching for a familiar face.

The bathhouse is empty.

He bursts into the hot springs.

He stops at the sight of one Viktor Nikiforov soaking in the hot spring.

Viktor pulls off the towel on his head. He rises naked and wet from the hot waters, twisting his body just so with defined water droplets dripping off his toned muscles. His cerulean blue eyes sparkle the same way he first saw Yuuri here twenty years ago, as if they have never fallen apart or suffered through hundreds of arguments over the course of their relationship. He purrs a single word that makes Yuuri’s world, the very world Yuuri made ten years ago to shield his heart, shatter into a billion pieces, changing the rules of everything once again. Just like twenty years ago.

“Yuuri.”

* * *

Just like twenty years ago, Yuuri runs away screaming.

* * *

Dressed in a green yukata, Viktor sits cross-legged at their chabudai and eats all of the wedding katsudon with glee. Nikita and Ren awkwardly stare at the wall while Phichit casually suck at his ice cube. Hiroko brings in more bowls of katsudon, cooing at the grandchildren.

“Both of them so big!” she cries out with joy. “Together at last!” Hiroko grabs both of their plushy cheeks and yanks. “You look so much like Yuuri!”

“We’re so fucked,” mutters one twin.

“Agreed.”

“Language!” says Yuuri, his forehead banging on the table. He can’t believe this is life again. Except this time, it has grown infinitely more complicated.

“But Dad,” protests two chiming voices.

“I don’t understand what is happening.”

Viktor pauses mid-bite. “Nikita didn’t tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Yuuri moans.

“Nikita. Ren. Explain.” Viktor glares at his two children and puts down his chopsticks. “If my suspicions are correct, neither of you are telling me or Yuuri everything.”

“Well, Father. . .”

“We met at Yakov’s skate camp. We figured things out. We decided to switch places. Nikita cut his hair. I learned how to skate like him. When skate camp was done, I went to St. Petersburg as Nikita to see what Father was like—”

“And I went to Hasetsu to see what Dad was like.” A pause as Nikita turns on bright, innocent eyes. “Are you both mad at us?”

“No,” cuts in Yuuri. “We understand. We shouldn’t have made this arrangement in the first place.” When he glances up and sneaks a look at Viktor, he finds beautiful blue eyes filled with light staring at him. His stomach flips, but he ignores it and chooses to glare at his wayward boys. “But—”

“VIKTOR NIKIFOROV!” screams one familiar voice. Someone kicks the front door open with a resounding bang. “VIKTOR!”

* * *

“Oh, that’s Yurio,” says Viktor airily. “Wonder what’s he doing here.”

* * *

“Viktor,” hisses Yurio.

“Yurio,” Viktor says, grinning over his bowl of katsudon and waving his chopsticks. “What happened to coaching for me in St. Petersburg?”

“I gave the job to Georgi.”  

* * *

_St. Petersburg, Russia_

“Love is more than just a feeling, you see. Love is a person. Love is a place. Love is with God or whatever or whoever you believe in. Love is expression, and on the ice, we skate with love in our hearts. But love could turn furious. Love can turn to heartbreak, shattering your soul into pieces that could never form perfectly again. Love can be tragic. Love could be obsessive. But love is what it is, and skating with love is to be honest with the ice. We allow people to see deep into our souls, into our very essence. You all understand?”

Georgi looks at the class of seven years olds exchanging confused looks. One girl shyly raises her hand.

“Yes, Masha?”

“Can we skate yet?” she whines.

* * *

_Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan_

Nikita’s face turns pale, the very look on soldiers who have faced down the horrors of humanity and Death himself and narrowly escaped by sheer luck and will. “That’s the worst person you can give the job to, Uncle Yuri!”

“Don’t be silly, Nikita. Georgi is an excellent instructor.” Viktor serenely laughs.

* * *

“HE TAUGHT ME HOW TO SKATE HEARTBREAK!”

* * *

“Katsudon,” asks Yurio, “you still getting married?”

Viktor snaps his head up, tilting his head just like when Makkachin and Yurcha gives a very sad look of confusion. “What? Married?” He turns to Yuuri, eyes glimmering with the beginnings of tears.

“Oops,” says Yurio.

* * *

“It’s our fault!” screams Ren. “We knew that Dad was getting married to Phichit, so we brought Father in from St. Petersburg under the impression that he and Dad are switching us back!”

“Viktor, you didn’t see it on Instagram?” Yurio questions, a touch of red in the face. “Your fans are tweeting about it at you!”

“My phone was dead for the last few days. I didn’t see anything!” He turns back to Yuuri. “But married? To Phichit?” Moaning incomprehensible things, Viktor sinks to the floor.

“Great, we killed Father.” Nikita glares at Ren.

“Don’t look at me! This was our idea!” He turns to Yuuri. “Dad, we brought Father in, because he’s still in love with you. And, and, and you’re still in love with him! Like. . . You’re perfect for each other!”

* * *

“I totally thought this wouldn’t turn out to be _My Best Friend’s Wedding_. You know, no obsessive, crazy ex,” Phichit says once Yuuri, Viktor, Hiroko, and the twins has cleared the room.

Yuri Plisetsky scoffs. “You got one lovesick ex and two troublemaking hellspawns instead. Anyway, this wasn’t anything like that movie.”

Phichit raises a curious eyebrow.

“Mila made me watch it.”

* * *

Three hours later, Viktor finds Yuuri furiously storming through one of his final routines he skated in competition. He leans over the rink barrier, watching his former student and partner dance over the ice. Frustration pours through every movement, and after Yuuri moves through the step sequence, Viktor simply says, “Yuuri.”

“Viktor.”

 _Better than ten years of silence_ , Viktor supposes.

“I think we’re overdue for a conversation.”

Thankfully, this time, Yuuri doesn’t run away screaming. He instead moves towards Viktor, leaning against the rink barriers. He places on his blue eyeglasses, the same style after all this time. He tentatively inquires, “You still love me?”

The alpha nods, pulling off his skate guards and meeting Yuuri on the smooth ice. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I thought you moved on. Would have been better that way.”

Viktor smiles sadly. “Not really.” He clutches at Yuuri’s gloved hands. “I can’t remember what we last fought about.”

“It was about you taking over Yakov’s rink,” he whispers. Yuuri remembers. He remembers too well. It was insane how the issues piled up, one after another. Like holding a stack of books and having someone ask if they could put one more. “I wanted to go back to Hasetsu to help with the onsen. So I left with Ren.”

“I tried contacting you, but you never responded. I was always one step away from booking an one-way ticket to Japan. Any word, and I would have left St. Petersburg. You called me two months after you left St. Petersburg—”

“I what,” flatly says Yuuri.

“You told me you needed space. I told you I would wait however long that’ll take.”

“What.” He rapidly blinks. He remembers Phichit and Chris coming in for a visit to Hasetsu and having their legendary drinking contests with Yuuri’s dad. Yuuri barely remembers himself getting roped into it after Ren has been safely tucked away in his bed. “I think I drunk-called you.”

Viktor freezes with horror etched on his face. “You don’t remember?”

“No.” A pause. Yuuri’s head falls forward, his eyes reduced to staring at the ice. “We really suck at communication, Vitya.”

* * *

A soft hand grasps Yuuri’s chin. Viktor’s eyes are not filled with regret or anger or any of the emotions Yuuri expected him to possess. He brushes his thumb against the bottom of Yuuri’s lip and whispers, “We already lost a lot of time, Yuuri. I think we have 10 years to make up for.”

* * *

“I don’t think we’re going to get married, Phichit-kun.”

“Well, I assume you and Viktor are getting back together then?”

Rearranging bed covers nervously, Yuuri blushes. “It’s not that!”

“Uh huh. Like you are a vegetarian.” Phichit gives him a look. “You forgot that before we got engaged that I was the Captain of SS Victuuri, didn’t you?” He presses a kiss against Yuuri’s forehead. “If he does anything wrong, let him know I still have pictures from 2021 GPF banquet. I’ll post them all on Instagram.”

“Phichit!”

* * *

**phichit+chu**

[Img: Selfie of Phichit with many recognizable figures in the background. Viktor Nikiforov’s sons are blushing red and looking deeply ashamed. Yuuri has a stupor expression on his face. Hiroko Katsuki, aging gracefully, beams serenely at the camera. Viktor Nikiforov in a green yukata is face-planted against the floor. Bowls of katsudon sit on the table.]

60k likes

 **phichit+chu** This is our life now. @v-nikiforov @n-nikiforov @katsuki-y #thirdwheelexperience #victuurispawns #therewillbenowedding #singleagain #whatisevengoingon #idontknow #victuuriisback ??? #katsukiren #nikitanikiforov #katsukiyuuri #viktornikiforov

—

 **ananikisuki** wattttttttttt are those twins??????

 **yoloniki** Two NIKITA NIKIFOROVS? I can’t handle!

 **hamskatelover** Phichit, I’m pregnant. It’s yours. Please send money.

 **SSVictuuri** omg omg omg omg WE ARE ALIVE!

* * *

“Would you skate with me forever?”

Viktor smiles. “Sounds like a marriage proposal.”

* * *

**Anonymous asked: Hey, katsugold. I know you haven't posted in years, but what did you think of Phichit's latest post on Instagram? A few days ago, he said he's getting married to Yuuri. Now he posted a pic of Viktor and Nikita and ???? My mind is blown.**

**katsugold**

Ten years ago, I was swearing up and down that Yuuri and Viktor were going to get married. But then Yuuri disappeared from Viktor’s instagram and social media accounts. Viktor said in an interview that he and Yuuri has parted ways (here, here, here). Yuuri-kun’s own social accounts are dead. (In fact, his Instagram hasn’t posted in _6 years!_ ) Phichit’s infamous marriage post (here) caused a meltdown over twitter, insta, and tumblr.

Throughout the years, Viktor has been actively posting pictures and videos over his son, Nikita. I estimate his age to be around 10 to 12 years old. (Viktor never posted baby pictures, shame on him.) We can compare pictures of Nikita and 13-year-old Viktor. Nikita’s definitely his son, and it looks like Ren Katsuki (name given by our overlord, Phichit) is Nikita’s twin. No one is confirming if both of them are Yuuri Katsuki’s biological children, but it’s not a farfetched conclusion.

Honestly, not sure what is going on. But I’ll keep reblogging this post as soon as we get more details.

Fact:

  * Nikita and Ren are Viktor’s son.
  * Ren and Nikita are identical twins.
  * Yuuri Katsuki’s NOT getting married to Phichit (here).
  * Phichit and Yuuri are separating. Phichit, in fact, is flying back to Thailand.
  * Viktor Nikiforov and the twins are in Hasetsu with Yuuri.



Speculation:

  * Victuuri is getting back together.
  * Yuuri Katsuki is the twin’s biological mother. (Haven’t you people heard of donor eggs before? Or artificial insemination?)
  * Yuuri Katsuki is an omega. (Honestly, speculations of his secondary gender has been so overdone and are gross af. If any of you look through his tag, you’ll undoubtedly run into one of those posts.)



* * *

_Hasetsu, Kyushu, Japan_

Nikita suddenly sits up in his bed. He tosses his cat plushie across the room. The plushie lands butt-first on Ren’s face.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“Tell me today wasn’t a dream,” Nikita whispers.

Ren turns over to face the nightstand and smiles at the bride’s bouquet of flowers he caught. He replies, “It wasn’t a dream. It’s our reality.”

* * *

_Barcelona, Spain_

A choir sings, and Yuuri is struck by this moment. This street, even. It’s the exact same place. . . It’s almost like the beginning. Almost.

He squeezes Viktor’s hand and smiles.

* * *

_7 years later_

_World Figure Skating Championships_

Sitting at the Kiss and Cry, Nikita glances at the monitor with his dad, Yuuri. Uncle Yuri glares off in the distance on the other side of the bench. His free program has left him ragged more than usual, but he gave much more of himself than he ever had before to the ice. And every bit he gave is worth it.

He finds his name next to a tiny Russian flag, leading the scoreboard.

Then there’s the score.

For a second, his pacing heart freezes in his chest.

It’s a world record. World record! He’s new current record holder for men’s singles in free program. He spies a familiar tall designer-suit-clad figure with short silver hair with his arm wrapped around a teenager in a Japanese windbreaker. The boy is about to reveal his skating costume at the entrance.

“Ren!” he screams, waving for his brother’s attention.

Ren looks back and waves at Nikita.

“Eat shit!”

“Nikita!” barks Yuuri.

Uncle Yuri crackles.

Rolling his eyes, Ren screams back, “I’m going to beat your score, Niki!”

Nikita smiles. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Handing his windbreaker to Father, Ren removes his skate guards and then skates onto the ice. He circles the rink and waves at the screaming crowd.

The announcer introduces Ren. “Representing Japan, Ren Katsuki-Nikiforov!”

**Author's Note:**

> me: I'm going to write a one-shot  
> me: *writes 10k instead*  
> me: argghghhhhhh


End file.
